


Thy Soul Shalt Not Rest

by Xuwukuwun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Don't Judge Him, Fluff, Guess The Killer, Horror, Humor, Lay Does Drugs, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Oh Sehun is a Brat, Please Don't Hate Me, Sassy Sehun, Satansoo, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xuwukuwun/pseuds/Xuwukuwun
Summary: Jongin goes to the Han River for a date with Kyungsoo.Instead, he finds a dead body and shit gets twisted, fast.





	1. Death

**Author's Note:**

> AFF: https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1272575

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sehun roasts his roommate, Yixing sneaks out, and Jongin stumbles upon something curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AFF: https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1272575/thy-soul-shalt-not-rest-horror-exo-baekyeol-kaisoo-xiuchen-sulay-murdermystery-au0

   Jongin stared into the mirror, unnerved by how awkwardly his reflection stared back. Did he really look that unsure of himself? Wait... was his eyeliner smudged? Already? He'd applied it twenty minutes ago, god dammit... But that's just what he got for doing his makeup before getting dressed and doing his hair, wasn't it? If you asked him, the fault was to be placed on those snobbish fashion gods, attempting to deliver some sort of _cosmic fashion justice_ that would scare him into getting his routine straight.

   Well, the fashion gods could go fuck themselves.

   Shaky hands lifted from the grimy bathroom counter -- seriously, when was the last time Sehun had cleaned the damn thing? -- to adjust his shirt collar. Would Kyungsoo mind if he looked a little slobbish? When he'd asked Sehun for fashion advice, he'd been told to go with a "dress casual" look, whatever the fuck _that_ meant. Since Kyungsoo had suggested they go on a walk by the Han River, Jongin figured "dress casual" meant a little less "dress" and a little more "casual", hence the plaid shirt he'd selected. His jeans were nice, though. Nice jeans counted as "dress", right?

   "You're sexy," he told his reflection, his voice coming out flat and disbelieving. Damn, he was starting to sound like Sehun when asked to give a positive affirmation. "You're cool. Kyungsoo likes you. That's why he asked you on a date, you... _jazzy guy._ " He attempted to give Mirror Jongin the finger guns, and immediately regretted it afterwards.

   He hadn't even set foot outside yet, and he was already screwed.

   "Hey, Jongin!" Sehun called, far too lazy to get his ass off the couch. He had priorities, and _Vogue_ was far more important than his incompetent roommate. "It's almost three, just so you know. Unless you want that boyfriend of yours to beat your flaming-hot rear into next month, I'd suggest _leaving_."

   "What?" Jongin called back, far too unsatisfied with his reflection to get his awkward self out into the living room. "Can you repeat that?"

   Sehun rolled his eyes, a pitying sigh rushing past parted lips. He had absolutely nothing to say. Jongin had zero game, and as much as he would've loved to break the news to his beloved, bubble-tea-hogging bitch of a best friend, Kyungsoo was sure to do that before the afternoon was over. Now, he didn't know this Kyungsoo guy very well, but judging by the horrific things he'd heard from Chanyeol, Jongin was in for a treat. Or, at least, Sehun was. When it came to his roommate, he got a little sadistic, but that was Jongin's fault for never bringing him home any much-deserved bubble tea.

   Jongin stared at himself intently in the mirror, which he now noticed had a few toothpaste stains splattered across it... but that was Sehun's problem. Maybe, if he stared at himself long enough, he'd actually get the confidence to go and not disappoint Kyungsoo as much as he probably already had, just by _existing_ and making such a bumbling fool of himself in public.

   Sehun glanced up from his magazine to give Jongin a hard look of disgust as he shuffled out of the bathroom, his chin receding into his neck as he saw what Jongin was wearing. Was that a purple trash bag, or was it a shirt? He had to admit, though, Jongin's legs looked _fine_ in those jeans, but they were far too casual for a first date. Who wore ripped jeans on a date? Unless they had a fucking Gucci belt, he hoped the answer to that question was _no one._

   "What?" Jongin asked, suddenly even more of an insecure mess than he had been only moments before. "Is something wrong?"

   "Is something _right_ , you mean," Sehun replied, and he looked more offended when he said it than he had when Chanyeol had accidentally gotten chocolate ice cream on his brand new shirt. Jongin offered Sehun the most sarcastic smile he could offer.

   "Well, at least I'm actually going somewhere this afternoon," he retorted, and before Sehun could retaliate with some scathing, sassy reply, he was out the door.

 

 

   "Junmyeon?" Yixing called out carefully, checking to see if his boyfriend-slash-babysitter was still in the house. As much as he loved Junmyeon, Yixing was always on edge, always terrified that Junmyeon would catch him doing something he couldn't afford to be caught doing. If he was caught, no matter how far they were into their relationship, he'd get dumped so fast he wouldn't be able to tell left from right for months. And yes, he genuinely loved Junmyeon, but how easily he accepted Yixing's excuses for being out late at night... it was perfect. Hell, he'd probably believe it if he was told Yixing went out for a stroll with his favourite rainbow-shitting unicorns. He just believed in his boyfriend that much, and that's why Yixing was so careful.

   When he was met with silence, he crouched down to pull out the uppermost drawer from his bedside table, flipping it over and dumping its contents onto the bed. He slid out a panel from the inside, and carefully took out the wad of cash that'd been stashed inside the small compartment. He slid the panel back into place and loaded his underwear back into the drawer, before placing it back where it belonged. He was set.

   "Junmyeon?" he called out again, just to make sure he wouldn't get asked where he was going at 2:50pm in the middle of the summer with a surgical mask and hoodie on.

   No reply.

   Yixing rushed outside before he could let anything else slow him down. He didn't have his watch on, but considering the fact it was already past 2:30, he was going to be late. If he was late... well, chances were he'd wind up in a pretty bad situation, and he couldn't afford that while dating the son of one of Korea's richest men. How had he landed such a perfect boyfriend in the first place? Ignoring the fact he was rich, Junmyeon was responsible, sweet, understanding... He helped Yixing grow as a person every day, but all the latter felt was that he was dragging Junmyeon down.

   With a hefty sigh, Yixing glanced down at the black scrawl on his hand, only barely managing to read it as _'Meeting spot @ 2:45pm, Saturday'_. He'd never been late before, so there was no way in hell he was going to be late today. Sure, he was late for some events, such as Junmyeon's dinner parties, but Junmyeon was lenient.

   His supplier wasn't.

   According to another customer he'd met on occasion, Xiumin, their dealer was known to be rather aggressive, and wasn't above going to his loyal customer's places of residence if they failed to show up for an exchange, which was exactly why Yixing couldn't afford to be late. As it was, he already felt guilty for doing what he did, but if he got Junmyeon involved, he'd never be able to live with himself. The anonymity of the deals was probably mutual, but after hearing that particular rumour, he couldn't be sure, and he wasn't willing to take any chances.

   He'd also heard his dealer had a _bitch_ of sorts, but that was unlikely, considering the size and stature of the man. He just seemed too... _cute_. But, then again, maybe this was a lie and he didn't really have a bitch at all. He hoped so, because the more lies he knew, the more likely it was that his dealer wouldn't visit his house and Junmyeon could remain clean, unsullied by the world of deception and addiction Yixing had gotten himself into.

   Great. Now he couldn't stop imagining his dealer actually having a bitch, and the image was so entertaining that he very nearly wet himself in the middle of the street from the whirlwind of laughter that wracked his body. He received a few strange looks from passerby, but for the most part, people kept to themselves as they always did.

   God, he loved Korea. Its people were so disinterested in the general public, and its dealers were so trustworthy and completely anonymous (as far as he knew). Not to say that China didn't have similar benefits, but Korea was more comfortable to him considering the life he lived. When he was at home alone, he couldn't help but miss China, but when he was sneaking into his house with a ziplock bag of weed at varying times of day, he was thankful for the way the Korean society was.

   "Glad to see you're not late again, Lay," came a voice from directly in front of him. He started, his eyes snapping wide open with surprise.

   "Jesus fuck, you scared me, Haru!" he hissed, straightening out the hem of his hoodie with an indignant huff. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten so lost in thought he'd wound up in the small warehouse without realizing, and it also wasn't the first time he'd almost pissed himself with fear. "I have the money, if you have the weed." Haru chuckled, seemingly finding his client's straightforwardness adorable.

   "I have it, no worries," he replied, holding a small, plastic bag of the drug out in his open palm. Yixing glanced from his dealer's covered face to the weed and back again, still amazed by how easy and anonymous the whole ordeal was. The man's hood cast shadows over his face, his eyes were hidden by a pair of tinted sunglasses, and his lower face was hidden by a black surgical mask. Unless he was someone Yixing knew well, figuring out who he was would be a difficult task, which he guessed was the point of the whole thing.

   "Thank you," he said, offering a quick bow to the shorter male before accepting the bag from him, handing him a small wad of cash in exchange.

   "You'd better be quick on your way home," Haru told him after bowing his head in return to Yixing's polite gesture. "It's a nice day, but it feels... _dangerous_. I don't think you'd want anyone to know that you've been out and about this afternoon."

   "What do you mean?" he asked, his brow knitting together with confusion. There'd been nothing important or serious on the news when he'd watched television that morning.

   Instead of giving him an answer, Haru backed away into the shadows, shaking his head slowly. Typically, Yixing would've laughed at such a cliché action, but he couldn't shake the heavy feeling of dread that curled and slithered along his spine, weighing in the deepest clutches of his chest. Was something going to happen that he didn't know about? Or had it already happened? And, most importantly... _was Junmyeon okay?_

 

 

   "You're late, dumbass," Kyungsoo grumbled, staring up at Jongin unblinkingly. His face was so devoid of emotion that it would've been hard for any old stranger to tell how he truly felt, but Jongin wasn't any old stranger. Despite Kyungsoo's seemingly pissed-off tone, he knew that he was just happy Jongin had shown up.

   "Yeah, I'm sorry about that," he replied sheepishly, not realizing he was rubbing his nape in the most stereotypical _'Aw, shucks'_ manner possible. "I got caught up talking to Sehun about how my outfit wasn't going to work for our date; he almost didn't let me leave the house."

   At this, Kyungsoo's face seemed to soften, a shy smile curving on his plump, heart-shaped lips that made him seem like an honest-to-god angel. "You look fine, Jongin," he assured the younger with a light laugh, taking his hand and starting to walk. "I've never met Sehun properly, but he sounds like a bit of a diva."

   "He really is," Jongin answered, squeezing Kyungsoo's hand gently and chuckling. "Speaking of which, if we happen to get bubble tea today, I have to bring some home for him." At Kyungsoo's questioning look, he continued. "The kid has a bubble tea addiction, and it's really bad. He can always tell when I've had some, and if I don't bring him some, too, he ignores me for the rest of the day. It's petty, but he's a petty guy."

   "Sounds like it," Kyungsoo said as he nodded his agreement, his smile never leaving his face. "Sounds like something you'd do if he didn't get you any chicken, though."

   Jongin bumped into Kyungsoo playfully, shaking his head and laughing a little too excitedly. But that was just what Kyungsoo found endearing -- how happy and expressive Jongin was around him, and only him. "No!"

   "Hm, you're right..." Kyungsoo paused, tapping a finger to his chin as he pretended to think deeply. In the moment of silence, Jongin could hear the birds twittering overhead, and the leaves rustling in the warm breeze. Even if they were still in the city, their surroundings just felt so _rustic_. Or, as rustic as an area could be with cars zooming back and forth nearby, anyway. "...You'd just cry."

   "And what would you do?" he asked, cocking his head to the side curiously. "Would you smile sweetly and ask for some of what they're eating?"

   "Nope," Kyungsoo said, and for a moment, just a moment, something wicked seemed to flash behind his eyes, twisting his smile into something that much more menacing. It sent shivers down Jongin's spine. "I'd steal their food or make them buy me some more."

   "Ooh, that's really evil of you," Jongin teased with a wide smile. "Would you ever do such a cruel, hateful thing to me?" He let go of Kyungsoo's hand and moved to stand in front of him, before getting down on his knees and putting on the most pitiful pout he could muster. Kyungsoo stared down at him blankly.

   "Yup," he answered, and stepped around the younger to keep walking. From behind him, he heard more of Jongin's characteristically maniacal laughter, and smiled. How could a grown man be so cute? And not the annoying, over-the-top kind of cute, but the natural kind of cute that got his heart beating a mile a minute, leaving his world tinted pink and dizzy.

   As he passed under a bridge and everything went dim, he felt warm hands around his waist, squeezing his middle fondly.

   "Would you really?" Jongin mumbled against his ear, hugging his torso to his chest.

   Silence.

   He was about to ask again, but that was when he felt just how much Kyungsoo was trembling in his grip. "What's wrong?"

   Jongin unburied his face from Kyungsoo's hair to see where the boy was looking, and the blood drained from his face in an instant. Not ten feet in front of them was a limp body, hanging from the ceiling by an electrical wire that was wrapped around its neck. The victim was clearly male, with a slight figure and matted, blood-encrusted hair. His jaw hung slack, revealing a gaping toothless, tongueless mouth. Before he could scan the body any further, Kyungsoo doubled over and hacked up all over the cracked stone floor.

   "Are you okay?" he asked frantically, turning Kyungsoo to face him. He brushed the boy's damp hair from his face, its ends sweat-drenched and matted to his forehead. Kyungsoo' eyes seemed as though they were held open, impossibly wide and red-rimmed from a threatening onslaught of tears. Jongin hadn't realized it until that moment, but he was on the verge of tears, too.

   "Call the police, Jongin," Kyungsoo whispered.

   Jongin nodded, but Kyungsoo was the one who shakily pulled his phone from his back pocket, never breaking eye contact with the boy the entire time.

   "Hello? Um... yeah, we need the..."

   Jongin couldn't make out the rest of Kyungsoo's words; everything around him sounded swamped, as though he were under water. All he could think about was that he recognized what was left of the body, but from where? Were they someone he knew? Regardless, he could only imagine the type of heartbreak that was going to shake some family, somewhere nearby, somewhere far... And he couldn't shake the feeling, that sinking feeling in his chest. That body was hung there, for the public eye to see. It was an omen.

_You're next._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to jimin_jimout17 for helping me edit this chapter, and all the others to come!


	2. Pallor Mortis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongin starts to suspect someone, and Yixing gets busted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that don't know, "ig" is just text slang for "I guess". I thought I'd just add this here, because there's a text conversation this chapter.

   Yixing's breath came out in uneven pants, his entire body feeling unnaturally warm, especially under such a thick hoodie. Why had it taken him so long to get home? Getting there had felt like a matter of minutes, but now that he checked his watch again, walking back had taken him three quarters of an hour. He couldn't believe it. An ambling walk would maybe take half an hour, and a sprint ten minutes. Yixing had sprinted. He jammed his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie as he hurried down the path, still slightly hunched over from trying to catch his breath, and tried to slip into the house as quietly as he could. As he shut the door, a stern voice sounded from behind him.

   "Where were you, Yixing? And why're you dressed like that?"

   Fuck.

   How was Junmyeon home? His car wasn't in the driveway. Was it being repaired, or... It was in the garage. _Of fucking course._ Well, at least it was Junmyeon to catch him, and not one of the cleaners. Junmyeon was lenient, right? He couldn't get _too_ angry or suspicious. This would be an easy situation to get out of, for sure. The last time Junmyeon had pushed him for the truth was when some random guy had pitched himself into the Han River from the bridge, and nobody had known who it was until half an hour after. Junmyeon had been worried then, but now was nothing like that.

   "I was going to get some peaches, but there weren't any at the shop." He paused for effect, allowing a gloriously realistic frown to darken his face. "Why? Did something happen?" Yixing asked, his voice dripping with honey. Feigning innocence came as a second nature to him, because he was typically the most clueless guy in a room, regardless of what was going on. He'd taken that feeling in, and used it to his advantage. Thinking about it, he'd been faking for so long that even _he_ couldn't always tell whether or not he was pretending.

   "We already have peaches in the fruit bowl," Junmyeon replied flatly, his cold and calculated eyes not once wavering from Yixing's face. "Have you seen the news? Do you even know what's going on?" Now, his voice was raising, shaking with fury. This was the first time Yixing had ever seen him get like this; he was beginning to make the suicide incident look like child's play. "I thought you were fucking dead!"

   Wait... what? _Dead?_ Yixing couldn't control the look of shock that crossed over his face, and this time, it was genuine. Had Haru been warning Yixing about a death at the end of their deal, or was this something completely different? If he had been... _he knew._ And that wasn't a good thing. Junmyeon didn't seem to notice his expression, and plowed on.

   "But, now you're sneaking into your own damn house, dressed all in black and covering your face. Don't you realize how suspicious you look?"

   Yixing remained silent, at a loss for words. His mouth felt bone-dry, rendering him unable to swallow around the sick lump in his throat. He knew that if he tried to talk, nothing coherent would leave his mouth. Perhaps, that was for the best.

   "Please, Yixing, be honest with me... where were you?" Junmyeon's voice was shaking again, but this time, he sounded... sad. Scared. Anxious. No matter what it was, it wasn't anger, and if anything, it only made Yixing feel worse. He could see the hurt in his lover's eyes, that silent yet desperate urge to know the truth, to stop being lied to. It was easy to tell that if he lied again, it would cause a rift between them, and Yixing didn't know if he'd ever be able to bridge that gap again.

   Instead of responding with words, he pulled the bag of weed from his pocket, presenting it to Junmyeon with shaky hands. He didn't expect what happened next.

   Junmyeon just stared at him. All the expression had faded from his face, as well as any colour. He looked well and truly dead. His eyes were blank and glassy, the only tell of his inner conflict being the incessant twitching of his jaw. Then, as though something inside him had been struck by lightening, Junmyeon shot forwards, tackling Yixing in a bone-crushingly tight hug. His shoulders trembled, and in the silence, Yixing could hear his occasional sobs, only becoming audible when he sucked in a wheezing breath.

   "I'm sorry," he whispered against the older's hair, and although he didn't get a response, there was a mutual, silent understanding between the two: Junmyeon forgave him.

   And he always would.

 

 

   Jongin was still in shock. That body... it'd been Zitao's. Extravagant, Gucci-obsessed Zitao, who'd served him a Choco Chill Frappe with way too much whipped cream the day he'd met Kyungsoo. Zitao, with his colourful, sometimes hard to understand language, and his broad knowledge of the differences between fake and real shoes. He was gone. Jongin had only met him once, spoken to him once, yet the loss he felt seemed so vast, so empty. He shouldn't have cared so much.

   But he did.

   Why was Zitao dead? What had he ever done to piss someone off so much that it'd gotten him killed? Unless, of course, his death really was an omen, a warning. Someone had left him there in such a gory state, but for what purpose? To scare random passerby? Jongin doubted it. The corpse had been hung there for a reason. It was a threat. But for whom? Him? Kyungsoo? Or had they just been in the wrong place, at the wrong time? As far as Jongin knew, he'd never gotten involved in any dangerous situations with anyone who seemed even _slightly_ off, and chances were Kyungsoo could say the same.

   Or could he?

   How much did Jongin really know about Kyungsoo? Now that he thought about it... not that much. He knew he didn't like drama. He knew he liked European food and his personal alone time. He liked his space, and Jongin had respected that the month they'd been together. But now, with Zitao's death looming ominously over him everywhere he went, he was starting to question things. Why did Kyungsoo need so much time alone? Sure, he was an introvert -- Jongin was, too -- but he could clearly remember the time he'd surprised Kyungsoo at his house with Chinese takeout. Kyungsoo had seemed agitated, on edge... and the way he hid behind the door? That was pretty suspicious, if you asked Jongin. Everything about that encounter was... _off._

 

 

_The sun shone brilliantly in the crystal blue sky, not a cloud in sight, which was rather strange for a city like Seoul. But Jongin, ever on the path of self-improvement, had decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather, instead of sitting in his room all day. (That, and he wasn't ready to put up with any more of Sehun's rants about not drinking enough bubble tea.) If the sky was in a good mood, Kyungsoo would be too, right? It was rare to see such beautiful days. All Jongin could hope was that Kyungsoo was at home, and not out and basking in the warm sun that washed over his skin._

_He looked up at the dark house looming over him, with its curtained windows and rust-coloured brick. Kyungsoo could've been living in a real-life horror movie poster, had he not been such a neat freak with an impeccably green thumb. Although Jongin would admit the red roses were beautiful, they didn't take away much of the eeriness that the house exuded. He'd always wondered how Kyungsoo had afforded such a spacious house, but he'd been too afraid to ask; for all he knew, it was an inheritance, passed down from a beloved, very-much-dead family member._

_Sucking in a deep breath, he made his way up to the front step, unable to contain his excitement. He knew he probably looked stupid, beaming with two bulging, plastic_ Tower Chai _bags in his hands, but he didn't care. The fluttering in his heart whenever he was about to see Kyungsoo was worth it._

_"Kyungsoo?" he called, struggling to push the doorbell with his elbow. "I brought you dinner, if you haven't had it already!"_

_Nothing._

_"Kyungsoo?"_

_This time, he heard a few heavy bumps, the sound of metal clanking on metal, and then the door opened a sliver._

_"Go away, Jongin. I appreciate your gesture, but now's not a good time."_

_"I..." Jongin trailed off, not expecting such a cold-cut response. "Okay. But can you at least come out for a few minutes? I haven't seen you face-to-face in a few days, and I've missed you."_

_"I'll take you out for coffee tomorrow, I just-"_

_"You know I hate coffee, Kyungsoo," Jongin cut in. He couldn't believe it. From anybody else, he would've understood, but Kyungsoo was always so attentive, and he'd always made friendly jokes about how Jongin and coffee were mortal enemies, doomed to be at war for the rest of eternity. Besides, now he was more than just slightly put off. Kyungsoo wasn't always the most open person, but to Jongin, he was. Where was this cold-shouldered treatment coming from?_

_Kyungsoo was silent for a few elongated, tense seconds. "I'll take you out for a steak dinner tomorrow, then. Just leave me alone today."_

_"Okay. Sorry for bothering you," Jongin answered curtly, and backed off the front step. The door shut immediately. If Kyungsoo needed his space, that was fine. He'd just leave him a text, and they could talk whenever he was ready._

   Looking back on it, what _had_ Kyungsoo been doing? They'd been dating for just shy of forty days, and that was the one and only time he'd acted in such a manner. Then again, he could've been doing a lot of things. Perhaps he'd been doing something he was embarrassed about?

   Wow. Realizing how many things could've happened that day, Jongin felt a pang of guilt in his chest. It hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours since they'd stumbled upon Zitao's corpse and reported his murder to the police, and he was already doubting his boyfriend. Hell, they'd been questioned briefly, and Kyungsoo had as good an alibi as he did. For all he knew, this was some dark, twisted crime shit that he knew nothing about, and it genuinely didn't concern him or Kyungsoo in the slightest. It was cruel -- stupid, even -- to be suspecting Kyungsoo of something as serious as murder, especially on such a gruesome and elaborate scale. Besides, he'd seemed genuinely terrified when they'd discovered the marred body under the bridge. As far as Jongin knew, it took a lot of skill to fake terror as true and deep as that.

   Great. He'd narrowed it down to two things: Kyungsoo was either innocent, or some type of sociopath. How comforting.

   At that moment, his phone buzzed, jolting him from his trance. He snatched up his phone from beside him on the bed, and smiled.

    **Dodo Bird <3: Hey, idiot. You doing okay?**

   Jongin rolled his eyes, an amused, airy rush of air escaping his lips. Trust Kyungsoo to be calling him an idiot when times were tough, and something sweet when things were flowing smoothly. He'd admit, though, being called "Idiot" was so much more suited to cheering him up than something generic, like "Baby". It never failed to put a smile on his face, and obviously, this time was no exception. Ensnaring his lower lip between his teeth, he speedily tapped out a reply.

    **Panini <3: Not really... Wby?**

   He huffed out a deep sigh, his head lolling back to rest against the pillow propped up behind him. He was still upset and scared, that was for sure, but it still didn't feel real. Zitao couldn't really be dead, and there was no way a killer was on the loose. It just... wasn't possible. It couldn't be.

    **Dodo Bird <3: Same. I mean, the whole thing doesn't feel real, but I know it is. I know there really is a killer out there, and a violently cruel one at that. For all we know, they could even be coming after us or our loved ones next. Isn't it a terrifying thought?**

   The smile faded from Jongin's face almost as quickly as it'd appeared. That was awfully dark for a comforting text, wasn't it?

    **Panini <3: Yeah, ig, but the cops will find the killer.**

    **Dodo Bird <3: What makes you so sure? They haven't found anything yet.**

   Jongin knew he was just being paranoid, but Kyungsoo wasn't doing anything to put him at ease. If anything, he was making him even more nervous. What was he trying to do? Was he just saying things he genuinely thought were okay, or was he _trying_ to scare Jongin?

    **Panini <3: Nobody can hide forever. We'll be ok.**

    **Dodobird <3: I hope so.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The notes from my first chapter are popping up all over the place and I'm not sure how to fix that just yet, so sorry if you see a curious note that doesn't seem to belong in the right place!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, and thanks for reading the first chapter of my story! I'm hoping to improve as the story progresses, as parts of this felt choppy, but I hope it's enjoyable enough thus far. I'd love to hear guesses of who you guys think the killer is, so just comment any theories you may have whenever you have them! I'm also not sure when the second story will be up, considering how long it took me to actually finish editing the first one, but it WILL be up eventually!


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